


cute little spawn from hell

by wearing_tearing



Series: Sterek Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Babysitting, Derek Wears Glasses, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Hipster Derek, M/M, Punk Stiles, Tattooed Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek blinks, surprised. “Are you—”</p><p>"Leaving, yes," Stiles nods vehemently.</p><p>"—afraid of <em>babies</em>?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from [tumblr](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/post/90356371014/sterek-10). prompted by anon: hipster, punk, goth, etc. au (i should warn you derek's not v hipster in this)
> 
> thanks again to [whatthehale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale/pseuds/whatthehale) for betaing :*
> 
> aaaand my visual for punk stiles is from the amazing [vulcains’ not very punk au](http://vulcains.tumblr.com/post/74285089062/stiles-and-derek-from-my-not-very-punk-au-because).
> 
> **i do not give permission for any of my works to be added to or shared on other websites such as goodreads.**

"What _is_ that?”

Derek doesn’t stop bouncing Emma on his knees as he looks up at Stiles, who’s currently frozen at the front door of Derek’s apartment, his eyes wide with something akin to panic.

It’s not an expression Derek sees on his face very often—the last time was when Derek accidentally threw one of Stiles’s favorite shirts in the trash because he thought it was just a dirty rag—, which makes him instantly start looking around, searching for what could have scared him.

He doesn’t find anything that looks particularly threatening, turning back around to make a face at Emma—and smiling when she giggles at him and tries to stick her fingers into his mouth—before glancing up at Stiles again.

Stiles is wearing one of his ratty black shirts with more holes than Derek can count on it and the sleeves cut off, the tattoos on his arms and chest in full view. He’s also in his oldest pair of jeans, ripped and faded and falling low on his hips, showing off the waistband of his black boxers briefs and a sliver of inked skin.

Derek gets a little distracted tracing the swirls of ink on pale skin with his eyes like he always does when he sees Stiles, throat working as he swallows, mind lost to images to tracing each and every one of those drawings with his tongue.

He gets so distracted he doesn’t even really notices Stiles is still talking to him until after Stiles drops his bag to the floor and slams the door shut behind him, making him jump.

"Derek," Stiles says again, stepping carefully into the living room, eyes glued to the baby on Derek’s lap. "What _is_ that?”

“ _She_ is my niece,” Derek huffs, trying to pry Emma’s hand away when she curls it around the collar of his sweater and starts tugging. “You’ve met her before.”

"But what is she doing _here_?” Stiles asks, voice a little bit higher than usual.

"Cora’s stuck at work and she asked me to go pick her up at daycare," Derek explains, not understanding why Stiles sounds freaked out. "So we’re spending some time together."

Stiles’s eyes widen even further at that, face paling.

“You mean _you’re_ spending some time together,” Stiles points a finger at him and slowly starts walking backwards. “Because I’m out of here.”

"I— What?" Derek startles, getting up and perching Emma on his hip.

"I’m not helping you babysit your niece," Stiles shakes his head. "No way. Nope. No matter how hot you are and how great the sex is."

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek hisses, covering Emma’s ears. “Not in front of the baby.”

"Exactly," Stiles nods, bending over so he can get his bag from the floor. "Because I’m leaving."

Derek wraps a hand around Stiles’s wrist and stops him, positioning himself between him and the door.

"Why are you leaving?"

Stiles makes a choked up sound at the back of his throat, leaning away from Derek and Emma. He doesn’t manage to get that far with Derek still holding on to him, though.

"Because," Stiles says, glancing suspiciously at Emma. "You have a baby."

"She’s not mine," Derek frowns. "And you’ve met her before."

"Not when her mother wasn’t around," Stiles points out. "And could, you know, keep her away from me."

Derek blinks, surprised. “Are you—”

"Leaving, yes," Stiles nods vehemently.

"—afraid of _babies_?”

Stiles makes a face at him, but the way he blushes from his hairline down to his chest tells Derek that’s exactly what this is about.

Stiles is afraid of _babies_.

"That’s not very punk of you," Derek says, lips twitching up.

"Tell that to someone who hasn’t had their nip rings almost ripped clean off because one of _these cute little spawns from hell_ ,” Stiles snaps, pointing at Emma, “decided it’d be fun to grab them and _not let go_.”

Emma chooses that exact moment to pitch forward and onto Stiles’s chest, little baby hands coming around to grip at at shoulders.

The scared sound Stiles lets out at that would make Derek want to laugh if it wasn’t for how _terrified_ Stiles genuinely looks, his eyes screwed shut and head turned away as if he’s waiting for death.

"Stiles," Derek says softly, stepping closer. He lets go on Stiles’s wrist in favor of snaking his arm around Stiles’s waists, bringing them flush together, Emma between them. "She just wants to see your tattoos."

"That’s what she wants you to think," Stiles says, voice cracking.

"It’s true."

"How’d you know?" Stiles asks, not moving a muscle. "It’s not like _you_ have any for her to look at.”

"At least she doesn’t try to grab your glasses and throw them away," Derek huffs, sliding said glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And I know because that’s what she’s doing now. Which is something you’d know if you’d open your eyes."

Stiles stays quiet for a few seconds, considering, eyes still closed and body tense.

"What if she tries to rip my nipples off?"

"I’ll stop her before she gets to them."

"And if you can’t?" Stiles asks, like that’s something that’s seriously worrying him.

"I’ll kiss them better."

Derek smirks when that makes Stiles blink one eye open.

"Promise?"

His smirk turns into a smile. “I promise.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, bracing himself, before glancing down at his chest.

Emma has one hand curled around the collar of Stiles’s shirt and the other rubbing over the stag inked right in the middle of Stiles’s chest.

Her eyes are bright and wide, little pink mouth set in an open smile, and she looks positively fascinated by the look of the tattoo on Stiles’s skin.

"Not so bad, huh?" Derek asks, smile still in place but softer somehow.

"I guess," Stiles shrugs one shoulder, tentatively bringing a hand up to swipe the hair off Emma’s face. "She’s kind of cute."

"Takes one to know one."

Stiles glances up and wrinkles his nose at him, and then looks back down at Emma. “I think I’m gonna have to teach your Uncle how to flirt, because this is _embarrassing_.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

Stiles grins.

And Emma throws her head back and laughs, accidentally hitting Stiles’s chin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You said you’d kiss it better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.k.a 1k words of just porn.

“You said you’d kiss it better.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Derek raises an eyebrow, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Yup.” Stiles nods, showing the bruise on his chin from Emma. “And now that the place is vacant of little brats with hard heads, you can do it.”

“My niece is not a brat,” Derek huffs, scowling at Stiles.

“I don’t see you denying the other part.”

“That  _is_  a pretty nasty bruise,” Derek murmurs, turning on his side on the couch so he can trace a finger lightly over Stiles’s chin.

“I’m surprise she didn’t knock my teeth out,” Stiles pouts.

Derek rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“What I am is  _hurt_ ,” Stiles sniffs. “In  _pain_. I am  _bruised and battered_ —”

“Stiles,” Derek says, fighting off a smile.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles leans in close, lips curving up in a grin. “Make me.”

Derek doesn’t even pretend to think about it, taking in Stiles’s red lips and bright eyes, the flush on his cheeks, the bruise on his chin. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Stiles’s mouth, smiling at the way Stiles’s breath hitches.

“I can still talk,” Stiles mutters, arms coming up to wrap themselves around Derek’s neck.

“Not for long.”

“Oh?” Stiles breathes out. “What are you thinking of doing to me?”

*

As it turns out, Derek’s planning to do dirty  _dirty_  things to him.

Not that Derek can hear Stiles complaining. But in truth, that might be because Derek has his mouth on Stiles’s nipple, teeth catching on Stiles’s piercing, and all Stiles can do is gasp and groan.

Oh, and say Derek’s name.

“I don’t hear you talking now,” Derek says against Stiles’s chest, tongue tracing the ink on Stiles’s skin.

That’s one of Derek’s favorite things to do when they’re together, kiss and lick and mouth at every one of Stiles’s tattoos, from the stag in the middle of his chest right down to the little lightning bolt on his left ankle.

Stiles threads his fingers through Derek’s hair and tugs, making Derek look up at him. Derek can’t see him that clearly without his glasses, but he can still make out Stiles scowling at him.

“And I don’t see you kissing my chin better.”

“I thought I could kiss other things better,” Derek says, shrugging.

Stiles licks his lips, tilting his head to the side. “I like the way you think. You can still do both, though.”

Derek snorts, sliding up so he’s hovering over Stiles on the bed. He bumps their noses together, placing kisses from Stiles’s cheek down to the purple mark on his chin. Stiles sighs, hand still on Derek’s hair, and angles Derek’s head so he can press their lips together.

“All better?” Derek asks, nipping at Stiles’s bottom lip.

“Close enough,” Stiles says, bucking his hips.

Derek feels Stiles’s hard on against his stomach, his own dick twitching in response. “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.”

“Guess so.”

Derek kisses Stiles one more time, hard and wet and deep. He keeps on kissing his way down Stiles’s chest and stomach, enjoying the way the muscles twitch and tense under his mouth. Stiles’s cock is hard and flushed, leaking at the tip, and Derek’s mouth water at the sight of it.

This is another one of his favorite things: blow jobs. He’s always liked giving head, the taste and feel and weight of a dick in his mouth. That it gets to be Stiles fucking his face only makes it even better.

Derek holds the base of Stiles’s dick with one hand, licking a stripe up Stiles’s shaft before closing his mouth around the head, moaning at the first bitter taste of Stiles on his tongue. He hears Stiles hissing, Stiles’s fingers digging into his scalp, and he wastes no time in relaxing his throat and taking more of him into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles curses, doing his best to stay still and not fuck up into Derek’s mouth.

And Derek almost rolls his eyes at that, because it’s not like Stiles doesn’t  _know_  Derek loves it when he does it, when he lets go and moves, when he almost chokes Derek with it.

Derek pulls back, Stiles’s dick sliding out of his mouth. “C’mon, do it.”

“Yeah?” Stiles pants, lips bitten red and eyes wide.

Derek does roll his eyes then. “ _Yes_. You know I lo—”

Derek doesn’t get to say anything as Stiles grips Derek’s hair with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock back into Derek’s mouth. But he does make a satisfied noise when it happens, and he does relax his throat so Stiles can do what he wants.

“Derek,” Stiles murmurs, hand sliding from Derek’s hair down to cup his cheek, thumb pressing against the corner of Derek’s mouth.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to come, not when Derek’s at his mercy like this. When he does is with a gasp and down Derek’s throat, his hand still resting on Derek’s face. Derek swallows it all, sucking at him until Stiles pushes him away.

“Did I kiss it better?” Derek rasps, voice thick and  _wrecked_.

“C’mere,” Stiles says, pulling Derek up.

Stiles catches his lips in a kiss, slow and sweet and still  _filthy_ , chasing his own taste on Derek’s tongue. He’s breathing hard, but he looks so completely relaxed and sated Derek can’t help but preen a little. He also can’t help but rub himself against Stiles’s side, wanting his own release now that’s Stiles is taken care of.

Stiles seems to get it, because he kisses Derek one more time before rolling onto his stomach, his arms folded under his head. He wiggles his ass when Derek doesn’t move, just stares at the inked planes of his back and the back of his thighs.

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” Stiles mumbles. “Or are you gonna come on me?”

Derek doesn’t answer just kisses the back of his neck before kneeling in between Stiles legs, his hand going for his own cock. He jerks himself hard and fast, eyes glued to the man under him, spread out for him,  _made_  for him, until he comes all over Stiles’s back, painting his skin with white.

*

“So,” Derek asks a while later, after they’ve cleaned up and are now lying on clean sheets, wearing only their boxers. “Did I kiss it better?”

Stiles lifts his head up from its place on Derek’s chest and smiles, the bruise on his chin even darker in the low light.

“You did more than that,” Stiles says, kissing the corner of Derek’s mouth. “Love you.”

Derek rubs their noses together, kissing Stiles back. On his chin. “Love you, too.”


End file.
